


Falter

by revasnarenan



Series: Falter [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Sometimes Fluff, gets a little morbid, mostly angst tho, vhenan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revasnarenan/pseuds/revasnarenan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident leaves the Inquisitor weakened and bedridden. Nightmares plague her dreams, but when she can’t wake up Rhona realizes there’s something much more sinister going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falter

Rhona thought she knew cold. After weeks spent traversing the icy hills of Emprise du Lion she still had not grown accustomed to the deep chill, she simply learned to not think about it as much. She always knew winters to be dark and grim in the Free Marches, but here the frost was almost beautiful. The chill made the air crisp, and although her lungs would ache if she breathed it in too fast, it kept her alert. Staying warm was a struggle, she often trudged back to camp with her limbs numb and fingertips blue. She longed to return to Skyhold so she might feel her toes again. Her companions shared the sentiment.

After reclaiming Suledin Keep word reached them of a new rift having opened in the lower hills, on the river. It was close enough to Sahrnia to cause trouble, so they departed immediately to take care of it. Afterwards it would be time to return home.

It took them half the day to descend the steep path. They crossed the frozen river, nearing the rift. As if sensing the hostile approach the rift pulsed, summoning forth demons from the beyond. Upon Rhona’s command they began their well practiced attack routine. Iron Bull’s roar echoed off the walls of the cliffs, drawing the attention of the demons to him. Solas and Rhona claimed perpendicular positions to the rift, the apostate channeling barrier upon barrier onto Bull, who fought with abandon, letting his injury fuel him. Cole reappeared on the battlefield, piercing a demon’s back with his dagger while its twin sliced the creature’s throat. When she was sure no demon would interrupt her Rhona lifted the anchor to the rift, kindling the connection carefully. Energy pulsed through her body, a feeling that was post exhilarating and terrifying.

The connection climaxed and Rhona strained against the immense power. Something was wrong, the ground quivered, the world shifted. She glanced beneath her, her thoughts eclipsed with fear. No, impossible. The ice was thick enough to support horses only days ago. But that was before a rift opened. Could the rift weaken the ice enough?

Iron Bull and Cole were wrapped up in the fight, but Solas took notice of her plight. Her connection ended abruptly, leaving the demons weaker. The motion undermined the ice beneath her further. “Hold on,” Solas called to her, quickly giving her a barrier, followed by a failed spell that amounted to a weak puff of frost. He was out of mana. He reached for a lyrium potion, fumbling over straps and ties in his rush.

Rhona would not dare breath, she remained entirely unmoved, did not shift a muscle. And yet the cracks kept spreading. Panic rose in her chest.  _I can’t swim. Can I? I don’t know. I can’t remember. Mythal keep me._

She thought she knew cold, but it was not until she plunged right into the frigid waters did she truly feel it. She was faintly aware of the flashes of green above her head, something about demons. But it was all too far. Her body heat did not drain away slowly as it would above water, it left her with reckless speed, almost as if torn from her fibre by fibre. Icy waters penetrated her armor easier than any blade, crept down her throat when she cried out, pushed her senses past the point of pain.

She felt slow as she struggled toward the surface, was it the surface? Her hands met stiff resistance, where was the hole through which she plunged? The barrier Solas had placed on her faded. Her blood roared in her ears, drowning out her thoughts, she could barely pick apart reason from nonsense. As the seconds dragged by they felt like hours, she kept kicking her feet, beating her fists against the ice, racing against time. She couldn’t feel her feet. Her chest burned. She has to breathe.  _I can’t_. She convulsed in her struggle.  _I have to._

Through the ice she could see figures, bursts of fire erupted against the ice, a greatsword collided with the surface.  _I can’t die here. Not like this_. But she could do little against the inevitable. Strength left her limbs as she fell into the black, her lungs turning to ice as she relented. All she knew was the cold. The dark. The ice ahead shifted, moved. Exploded. Something plunged. Green light. Was her vision deceiving her? A product of a delirious mind? Had her spirit already moved on?

Hands pulled her into an embrace and she could almost pretend she wasn’t dying. She could almost pretend she didn’t fear death. Warmth spread through her body and that’s how she knew that Falon’din had come to claim her at last. What would she find at the end of the tunnel?

————————————–

When she first woke up she stared at the ceiling without understanding, without memory. She wanted to look around, to find out where she was, as was instinctual, but the muscles in her neck felt like rusted hinges, heavy with disuse. She was locked in a state of groggy awareness.

“Rhona?” A name. Her name. “Can you hear me?” She could make out a face, but had trouble focusing on more than one feature at once. The voice was familiar. She knew this man. A sensation in her hand, he took a hold of her hand, _“Mala suledin nadas, vhenan.”_

Her eyelids drooped, sleep claimed her once more.

————————————–

As Rhona regained consciousness she was first aware of the hand on the center of her chest, and the wonderful warmth emanating from it. Her cold grave must have been a nightmare, she had a tendency of suffering many. Surely a chill would linger still if it was true. Or had her spirit moved on? No, she had experienced the Fade before. This was real.

For a while she did not move, basking in the sunlight-like spell her healer was casting. Whoever it was, she was grateful. It felt like a warm summer afternoon under the trees. From the haze came a gentle awareness of voices, a heavy door opened and footsteps intruded upon the silence. Her healer paused their casting, to her immense disappointment.

“How is she, Solas?” Cassandra’s tone was firm but also heavy with concern.

 _Solas_. Was he the one casting the warm spells? “Her spirit is holding on. She’ll recover.” His confidence in her was gratifying.

Her eyelids felt heavy and opening them proved too much effort. Even with the gentle spellcasting she could scarcely move a muscle. The pull of sleep proved too great, and she succumbed. It wouldn’t be so wrong to take her time in recovery. She could rest.

————————————–

When next she woke it was with a sudden clarity. Something was off. She needed to wake up,  _now_. It was too quiet. The wind beat against the outer walls of the cabin, trees rustled their leafless branches outside, but the town was silent. Even at night, there should’ve been something.

“Solas?” she murmured, opening her eyes. But where she expected to see Solas at her bedside, a small candle-lit cabin sheltering them from the elements, the snowy hills outside a partially curtained window, she instead found herself looking upon a ghastly beast. A bear the size of those she had encountered in the Emerald Graves, except much more nightmarish. Its oversized teeth were stained red, blood still decorating the monster’s ragged jaw.

With a shout she vaulted out of the bed—again surprised by the lack of fatigue—and searched for a weapon. She moved just as the creature lunged, narrowly dodging its dagger-like claws. The room was empty save for the bed she had escaped from, if she had to fight she’d have to be clever about it.

As she faced it once more she finally had a chance to really analyze the scene. She was not in Sahrnia, that was certain. The cabin she was in was in a severe state of decay. The tingling on her skin was the first indication she was in the Fade. The second was the creature that had attacked her, it morphed before her eyes, taking the shape of Solas.

But it was only a poor copy of her lover, the look in its eyes unsettled her deeply. But she couldn’t let this demon affect her, “What do you want?” she demanded, cursing herself when her voice cracked.

“What are you afraid of, Inquisitor?” the demon purred, finishing off with a unnerving grin. It truly looked like Solas in all but body language, the apostate she knew and loved never moved so stiffly. It was as if the demon struggled to moved all the limbs in unison. Or simply it acted ghoulishly to get under her skin.

As it crept toward her its smile only widened, even as the muscles stretched it did not stop, the skin tore with sickening deliberateness, blood coming through the splitting skin. Rhona watched in horror as the demon reached up to rip the skin from his jaw entirely, grinning all the while. He looked mad. It was… too much.

She looked away, trying to calm her chaotic heartbeat.  _This isn’t him. This isn’t real._ The demon was holding her in the Fade, keeping her in this twisted nightmare. It was clearly trying to unsettle her. “You… you’re a fear demon.” Rhona met the demon’s eyes, steeling herself. She could not give him any reaction. Fear demons grew stronger if you were afraid. She had conquered one before, when she fell into the Fade at Adamant. Granted now she was alone, and the demon seemed to know her very well.

She must’ve attracted it when she fell into the frozen river. She could clearly recall the terror she had felt, though she did not want to remember it now. Not around a demon who knew her thoughts.

It took a hold of its own arm, pulling down until a sickening crack sounded from within the shoulder. Even though it wasn’t Solas, the demon took on his appearance. It looked too realistic for her to remain unaffected. She cringed at the unnatural sight. The demon only giggled as if dislocating its own shoulder was equivalent to a light tickle. “Do you fear me? Or do you fear for  _him_?”

The demon vanished and the door next to her swung open in the same instant, colliding violently with the wall. Despite herself Rhona jumped at the noise. She heard a raven’s cries outside, beckoning her. When the Fade grew still once more she forced herself to walk forward, out the door and into whatever nightmare the fear demon had prepared. What she saw made her blood run cold. 


End file.
